A candle in the mist of December
by adary
Summary: Christmas. The occasion to celebrate, to drink and laugh, to remind our loved ones how much we love them even if they are still real pain in the ass.


**Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

 **Rating T for sexual innuendos, nothing big though. I think.**

 **Summary: Christmas. The occasion to celebrate, to drink and laugh, to remind our loved ones how much we love them even if they are still real pain in the ass.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **A candle in the mist of December**

The general atmosphere was kind of tense this evening, as if the nations were ashamed to enjoy themselves when so many of their fellow beings were currently trying to survive in atrocious conditions. Regardless of the attention paid to the smooth running of the festivities, the artificial smiles and somehow forced laughter deluded no one.

America had always insisted to organize the end-of-year celebrations and this year, although rich in turmoil and emotions from all sides, was no exception to the rule. And as usual he was doing things big, as only America could do.

Almost a hundred nations had been invited to one of these immense buildings dating from the last century. The estate, having belonged to a prolific inventor whose name escaped him, stretched over several hectares in this penguin's paradise their host called Minnesota. However France could not help but admire the special care given to the gardens whose charm was enhanced by the winter setting. The internal layout of the estate was not to be outdone and fulfilled the feat of being majestic while remaining sober and elegant. A marvel of Classical architecture.

The huge reception room was decorated in red and gray tones, with touches of green brought by the vegetation arranged everywhere but principally by the enormous fir tree installed in a corner of the room, so loaded in decoration that many wondered by which Miracle it had not collapsed yet. The guests were chatting around long tables set in a U shape around the dance floor and in front of a large platform where the long pompous speeches had followed one after the other for nearly two hours, to the great despair of France. One could also smell the delicate scent of the dishes mixed with the pungent odor of the candles so numerous that the tables seemed to be covered with clouds of fireflies, and behind all this setup France could only imagine all the security teams on a war footing ready to act at the first sign of fire or world conflict.

You could trust America for these sorts of things.

His attention turned to the stage as China went away under applause to give way to England, or rather the United Kingdom he should say, even if in his head he would forever be England. Savage little England, forced to grow too fast to be able to survive in a world too hostile for a child. Their history had been and was still complicated, so to speak. They had their ups and downs, and it took them centuries to understand that they could continue to invade the territory of the other in less deadly and costly ways. And it was far more amusing to bicker at a meeting when you knew that your vital prognosis was not at stake anyway.

However with their heavily laden agendas and their own worries they had not had the opportunity to spend time together outside their obligations as states, and this evening was the first time they could rub shoulders without any political afterthought. To celebrate the occasion France got all dressed up with one of his dove-gray costume and a light blue tie, knowing full well that they fitted perfectly his complexion. To his delight his goal had been reached judging by the fact that England had spent the major part of the evening sitting cross-legged and sending him glances from the corner of the eye.

England left the stage in his turn to let America make the final speech, making Francis realize that he completely zoned out and missed all his performance. What a pity, really.

This time France tried (in vain) to focus on America's discourse but his mind was lost again after a few seconds.

Actually England had also spent the greater part of the evening with their host, without having addressed him more than the formal greetings dictated by the protocol. Centuries ago France would have felt a feeling of rejection, even of jealousy, but since he had understood little by little the nature of the bond between England and his former colony. It was a bond made somehow of one-sided dependence but most of all of sincere respect and mutual affection. Because England loved America as his former protégé and someone of his own blood and own culture, and America loved England as a current ally who would never disagree with him and a precious friend.

France had also understood that England, on the other hand, did not look favourably at his relationship with Ludwig. This had astonished and flattered France when he finally realized during the end of the twentieth century that England saw the German as a potential romantic rival, and he has been quick to alleviate his concerns. Ludwig was his principal ally and trading partner just as America was his, and together they had finally worked things out for the sake of their relationship.

He was suddenly expelled from his thoughts by a burst of applause as America saluted the crowd from the stage. And another fancy missed declaration to add to his prize list.

France grabbed his glass and emptied it with a long mouthful that burnt his throat. It was a pleasant and welcomed pain, though. His table-mates were not very talkative, merely exchanging simple banalities from time to time. Spain was trying to relax the atmosphere by telling jokes to which Poland and Belgium politely laughed, Germany was casting nervous glances around him, as for Italy he had been silent since the beginning of the meal, his dazzling smile having not warmed their heavy hearts a single time during the entire evening.

A tense melancholy seemed to reign over Europe that night.

France felt more than he saw someone enter his personal space and a stretched hand suddenly got into his field of vision. He looked up to see England's cool face and easy smile, dashing as always in his black tuxedo.

''May I have the pleasure of the next dance?''

Without a word he accepted the invitation and soon was led to the circle of dancers while the first notes of Nina Simone's _I put a_ _spell on you_ began to invade the room.

How deliciously convenient.

He let the other nation lead them among the dancing couples and tried not to sigh at the feeling of the warm hand in his cold one and the arm tight around his waist. They were the same size, a handy fact for their eyes to sink into those of the other.

They fell quickly into an easy and familiar rhythm, rocked at the same time by the sound of the music and the soft feelings in their bellies. Breaking the eye contact the Frenchman put his head on England's shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling the breath of the other on his left cheek.

''It has been one hell of a hectic year, hasn't it?'' murmured England, but France sensed that he was mostly musing out loud to himself.

'Hectic' was a bit of an understatement. Another year full of grief and void promises for a better and wonderful world to add to an already heavy collection would be closer to the truth. Sure they had experienced many difficult times before but since they had been accustomed to peace, a careless and dangerous thing to do for it never lasted. So here they were, at the beginning of a new cycle.

''You're right,'' he said instead. ''So much that I have come to regret your irritating and haughty voice, and that is saying something.''

England did not need more to lose his temper.

'' _My_ haughty voice? You are the one who transpires disdain at each of your words. You know what? You are the personified disdain, and it isn't even justified.''

''Care to explain what you mean by that, mister I-am-better-and-deserve-better-than-anyone-even-if-I-am-only-a-beauty-spot-on-the-Earth's-ass?''

Wow, it felt good.

They looked at each other for several seconds with grim expression on their faces before chuckling when they realised how ridiculous the situation was.

''A shame that we can't spend more time with each other… I miss our sparring contests.''

''Don't worry chéri, with your Brexit we'll have plenty of time to do that,'' France snickered, and his remark made England groan.

''Please, don't remind me of this headache. You could not have found a better turn-off.''

France's lips stretched to form a mischievous grin. ''Really? I will have to remedy it, then.''

He pulled their pelvis closer and took care to stroke devilishly slowly his partner's crotch with his thigh.

''Oh, dear lord…'' Arthur had a hard time preventing himself from moaning with all the other nations nearby.

''You can call me Francis,'' he said with a teasing wink, which earned him a light slap on the head.

Smiling they continued to dance while the first notes of Armstrong's _What a wonderful world_ began to fill the room.

''Is it me or America is feeling particularly nostalgic tonight?''

Arthur did not answer, but his knowing smile sparked a great interest within the Frenchman.

''Oh. _Oh_. Matters of the heart?''

To his surprise his partner uttered a quiet laugh. ''You could say so. Unfortunately, no matter how much I would like to gossip with you on his case, he strictly forbade me to tell a single word to anybody.''

''Tss… A shame.''

Arthur hummed in agreement before adding: ''But I'm sure that your frog special super power is able to answer your question.''

''Certainly. But I do not want to spend my evening making assumptions about America's love life. Especially when I can have you in my arms.''

''Oh, poor sweetheart,'' Arthur said with a teasing tone, even if inside he felt all warm and funny. ''Did you miss me that much?''

''Certainly as much as you missed me, judging by the hardness against my thigh.''

The Englishman hid his burning head in his partner's neck, trying to mask his embarrassment. ''Fair enough. You have no idea how several months of abstinence can make a man desperate.''

''I do. That made me find my new best friend, by the way.'' With that he let his right hand crawl suggestively against his partner's back.

''Francis… put immediately this hand away from my backside,'' Arthur warned with a low tone against his ear.

''Mon amour, I'll have you know that your backside is a very warm and comfortable place. To put a hand, I mean.''

''Francis, I'm already struggling not to ravish you right here in front of an entire crowd of nations, so please be sensible and remove kindly your hand from my backside.''

Pouting the Frenchman obliged to his request, putting instead his arm around Arthur's shoulders. After a few seconds he began to caress the side of his Englishman's neck with his thumb, making the other blush and sigh.

''You really are incorrigible, aren't you? You never learn,'' he whispered, but there was more fondness than bite in his tone.

''Hmm? I believe I don't.''

Arthur merely shook his head in false desperation, knowing full well that he would have more luck convincing America to sleep alone after watching a horror movie than teaching the Frenchman proper manners. This was a lost cause. But he would not have it any other way.

''If someone ever told me centuries ago that we would end up like this, I wouldn't have believed them.'' he mused.

''Well, I won't complain. It's far more enjoyable when no weapons are involved. At least that proves that we are more mature now.''

''Are we?''

The Frenchman sighed. ''Most of the time.''

The Brit clenched his lips with a frown on his face as some memories that he'd rather forget flooded in his mind. _Most of the time_. Sure, they were far from being models of virtue but they tried to make things better. They really did. But was their good will enough? Nowadays he doubted it.

''It will be okay. We have been trough worse, remember? We're going to be okay. We're all going to be okay,'' he repeated fervently, not knowing whether he was trying to convince Francis or himself.

''Nothing more than a pious wish.''

''Hope was the only thing that kept us going during the most hopeless and darkest times, don't forget that. It is not a human privilege.''

''Let's hope somebody hear your prayers, then. And let's enjoy the good time while it lasts. Being able to feel the pain means that we are still alive anyway.''

''Some wise words you're saying here,'' Arthur smiled. ''The first of the evening if I am not mistaken.''

This earned him an outraged look on behalf of the Frenchman. ''You insolent brat. I would like to have some words with the crétin who raised you one day, because he did an awful work.''

''My, my, you manage to achieve one thing in your life and you're denigrating it?''

''Now that I think of it, you're quite right. My parenting style is by far superior to yours, the ultimate proof being what Canada and America turned out to be.''

Arthur gave him an amused look. ''Canada took a lot more after me than he did after you.''

''Details, mon cher, details,'' Francis uttered with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

On the other side of the room there was some shouting as the pin tree was beginning to lean dangerously, threatening to collapse, but neither of them paid attention to the scene as the self-proclaimed hero was handling the situation with practiced ease.

''This estate reminds me strangely of the one in which you threw a party in the beginning of the sixteenth century. You were so wasted that night, for a change. I still remember how you were hoping to explore the other side of the Earth by digging a hole with an old shovel. A shame that your drunk self had not been able to continue after ten feet.''

''Yes, and meanwhile you were snogging my brother if I recall correctly, even if the both of you were not invited. I'm sure that you chose him just to annoy me, you devious git.''

''I'm afraid you are mistaken, mon lapin. Your brother was a very pleasant companion and having you annoyed was just a delectable bonus. However the sole purpose of the whole story with Spain and later Austria was to drive you crazy, I'll gladly concede that. And then you came into the picture and made me monogamous. It was quite a feat, really.''

''I'm English after all,'' Arthur stated smugly. ''It's in our genes to do wonders.''

''That you do,'' Francis said with a fond smile on his face. He remembered the day he had taught (understand: tried to teach) Arthur how to play the lute, this instrument that Antonio made him discover back during the medieval times. The Englishman had already been graced with a short temper at that time and Francis' ears had been bleeding because of the out of tune chords and the frustrated shooting. Arthur had decided that he didn't like it and that it was solely Francis' fault if he had such a deplorable level. Later it had been the guitar's turn to shine, especially in the hands of his beloved and detestable Sun king. It became quickly a real phenomenon in Versailles and in Europe reaching the shores of a particularly bellicose nation which decided to make of it his personal property and pride, never releasing it since.

Arthur had always been a possessive man.

''A penny for your thoughts?''

''Nothing in particular. I was just remembering how you used to be cute and all, and how it's a shame that there wasn't any button like in Kiku's game to prevent you from growing up afterwards.''

''You sodding frog. I could say the same about you. Such a cute girl becoming an old pervert.''

''You think I was cute?'' For a moment Arthur had forgotten about Francis' selective hearing. Some stupid thing to do he knew by experience.

'' _Was_ being the key word.''

''How can someone be as charming and as nasty as you at the same time is truly beyond me. But I shouldn't be surprised, after all the _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyd_ _e_ comes from your shady island. It's no wonder where Alistair found the inspiration. The poor soul should be rewarded to put up daily with your uselessly sarcastic comments and your deaf ears to his pleas.''

''You are one to talk,'' England replied, sulking. ''I wonder myself how Germany manage to bear your presence everyday with all your annoying cackling, your whining, your habits of complaining and not meeting regulations.''

They looked at each other for several seconds and suddenly burst out laughing, bringing upon them loads of bewildered looks.

''I'm afraid we are irredeemable!''

''Oh god, our poor neighbours...''

Francis gazed at Arthur, who was currently wiping his tears with a big smile on his face. He was not exactly a beauty based on the criteria of today's society, with his features too rough and his kind of clumsy figure. However he had some sort of wildness in his aura that attracted people more than any other trait Mother Nature could have gifted him. Francis was suddenly acutely aware of the few freckles discretely adorning the other man's skin, the way his pink lips stretched to form this teasing smile of his and the way his body in general was sending him back to his status of simple human being created with all its flaws, its qualities, and most importantly its desires.

''Do you think it would appear suspicious that we both want to sober up in our room at the same time?'' he could not help but ask with all the innocence he could muster (i.e. not much).

His partner smirked. ''Simply a coincidence. We had the same amount of drinks after all.''

''And the others are too occupied to pay attention anyway.''

''Both are very accurate points.''

They exchanged a knowing look, a knowing smile, and both hurried towards the exit.

* * *

Half an hour later another couple rushed hastily into the main corridor of the first floor. The taller of the two stopped abruptly and approached one of the doors through which loud moans could be heard with a bemused expression plastered on his flustered face.

''It appears that some are having a good time,'' he stated disapprovingly.

America snorted. ''Nothing unexpected with those two old rabbits. But they won't be the only ones this time.''

''What do you mean by that?''

''Dude, you don't seriously think that I brought you here to play Crazy Eights, do you?''

And he hurried towards the master's chambers, taking the hand of a bewildered Russia in passing.

* * *

 **I'm truly sorry for all the typos and the horrible grammar, English is obviously not my first language (go hide in shame) Anyway I hope that it was not too painful to read… And Merry Christmas! (In advance. Whatever.)**

 **Funny fact : England and France have the same height, 175cm (5'9'') Just saying..**


End file.
